


The Rebirth of Emrys

by the5leggedCricket



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6224584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the5leggedCricket/pseuds/the5leggedCricket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>brainwash<br/>ˈbreɪnwɒʃ<br/>verb<br/>gerund or present participle: brainwashing<br/>pressurize (someone) into adopting radically different beliefs by using systematic and often forcible means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rebirth of Emrys

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: [Photo](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/5leggedcricket/74271064/944/944_900.jpg)  
> POV: Either  
> MCD: Either  
> Time: Other

Day 1, Skyland #7063, Isle of the Blessed

 

Arthur wakes to a throbbing in his head. He groans and makes to rub his temple, but as he lifts his left hand, he feels a tug at his other hand. He blinks slowly, taking a moment to steady his gaze, and when he looks down, he sees there’s a rope tying his wrists together. __Well, fuck.  
  
He closes his eyes again and, taking a deep breath through his nose, lets his head fall back until his hairs get smothered by a cool wall. There’s no reason to panic. He has been trained for situations like this, and his captors have been sloppy. For one, his wrists are tied in front of him. For another, they’ve been tied, not by a standard pair of handcuffs that can only be opened by a remote, but by a simple rope. If he wasn’t trained to escape literally all kinds of restraints, he wouldn’t even have known what it was. Ropes are ancient, and absolutely no one in their right mind would use one when these days, there are nearly inescapable high-fiber restraints for a reasonable price.  
  
Great, he has been captured by idiots.  
  
Arthur, having calmed down considerably (not that he was panicking in the first place), nods to himself and gets to work, eyes still closed. It’s laughable, really. He twists his wrists like this and that, relaxes his muscles, wriggles his hands a little, and… He’s free!  
  
He opens his eyes to see what his next obstacle is, if there even is one, just in time to see the rope disappearing into thin air. A frown forms between Arthur’s brows. Did someone just zap it away? Has that someone been expecting Arthur to escape his now-suspiciously amateuristic restraints?  
  
He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions and instead lets his training kick in.  
  
First, analyse your surroundings.  
  
He’s sitting in the corner of a badly-lit room. There’s a chair in the middle of the room. A wooden chair, another ancient relic, but this one worth lots more than a mere rope. Wood has become a rarity, and nobody dares make objects out of it anymore, because it would mean having to cut in it, or carve in it, having to do something that would get rid of the abundant wood, and wood is never abundant.  
  
Part of Arthur wants to touch it. There are a couple of wooden logs and branches in his bedroom, and he remembers the smell, the feel of it under his fingertips. But anything his captors give him is suspicious, potentially dangerous. Arthur’s eyes move on.  
  
Aside from the chair, the room is empty.  
  
Arthur finally rubs at his temple, even though the throbbing has mostly subsided by now. There’s no blood when he draws away his hand, and it’s a good sign, a sign he should move on to the next step. Looking for an exit.  
  
He places his hands on the floor on either side and pushes himself up. Once he’s upright, he does a quick check to see if there’s no injuries. Then he walks around the room, checking for a way out. Soon, he curses.  
  
The walls are smooth all over, not a door in sight. He knows this kind of room...no, cell. He’s locked people in them before himself. Only the worst of the worst, the absolute trash of society, gets jailed in them. It’s impossible to get out, unless your captor wants you to.

~~~~o

Day 3, Skyland #7063, Isle of the Blessed

 

Arthur does not have a good feeling about this. There is no way to follow the passing of time, but he estimates it’s been three days now, and anything has yet to happen. No one has visited him so far. He wonders if this solitude will last forever, and if maybe getting tortured for information wouldn’t be better for him, at least in the long run. Isolation can do terrible things to men.  
  
He’s hungry, but there’s no food. He’s tired, but every time he closes his eyes, a comforting feeling envelopes him, occupying his mind and only allowing it to slip into sleep for short periods of time. He’s cold, but there’s nothing to keep the cold at bay. The only need that is being taken care of, so far, is his excrement. He can go wherever in the cell, and as soon as it leaves his body, it’s being zapped away. He doesn’t know if he should be grateful or not.  
  
Suddenly a shock runs through his body, entering and leaving through the limbs that are resting on the floor. He jumps up, and another shock follows, leaving him clutching at the wall. But the energy is there as well, and his hands hurt from the burst that attacks them. It stings and aches sharply, making him painfully aware of all of his nerve endings and making his heart beat faster. Another shock and another shock leave him shaking, each time more forceful. He knows he has to escape the energy, because already his heart feels like it’s going crazy and it might give out if this goes on.  
  
He goes to the chair, a light bathing it in a warm yellow now, and hopes that the unknown element is less dangerous than the energy that possesses the walls and floor. A shock burns his feet, spreading its fire through his legs, up to his groin and hips, and he takes the last step towards the chair.  
  
 _Arthur enters the dining room. His sister and father are already there, eating and chatting. Laughing. Arthur goes to sit opposite Morgana, filling his plate while they keep talking. They ignore him for the better part of the meal, until there is a lull in the conversation and Uther turns his way.  
  
_ _“Did you find the criminal like I asked you to?”  
  
_ _Arthur freezes, his fork hovering in the air on its way to his mouth. “I did not, sire,” he says and puts his fork down.  
  
_ _Uther slams his hands on the table. “You are not worthy of a prince. You are not worthy to be my son!”  
  
_ _“I’m sorry, sire. We searched for a week, but he must have concealed himself with magic.”  
  
_ _“Excuses. Obviously I was mistaken in you. You’re not a prince, you’re not my son, you’re a nobody! You’re not worthy of a name.”  
  
_ _Morgana has finished eating. She dabs her mouth and chimes in. “You’re not my brother or my friend. You’re a nobody. You’re not worthy of a name.” She smirks.  
  
_ _Arthur wants to flee, but he can’t move. Other people enter the room, and they all start saying the same words. “You’re not a prince, you’re not a son, you’re not a brother, you’re not a friend. You’re a nobody with no name.”  
  
_ _Arthur’s heart races and he wants to scream to drown out the sounds, but when he opens his mouth, someone pushes food into his mouth and his whimpers are muffled.  
  
_ _“I_ am _somebody,” he forces himself to think. “I am the Prince of Camelot, I am Uther Pendragon’s son, I am Morgana Pendragon’s brother, I am Morgana Pendragon’s friend. I_ am _somebody. My name is Arthur.”  
  
_ __They raise their voices, surrounding him at all sides, trapping him in his chair. “You’re not a prince, you’re not a son, you’re not a brother, you’re not a friend, you’re a nobody with no name.”  
  
When, eternities later, the magic releases its hold on his mind, he doesn’t even realise it at first. He’s clutching his ears, mumbling, “I am the Prince of Camelot, I am Uther Pendragon’s son, I am Morgana Pendragon’s brother, I am Morgana Pendragon’s friend. I am somebody. My name is Arthur.”  
  
When he realises that he’s on his own again, he opens his eyes and spots the plate of food on the floor in front of him. He pukes.

~~~~o

Day 127, Skyland #7063, Isle of the Blessed

 

_The child cries, not holding back his whimpers and sobs. Her mother pulls him into her lap and strokes his hair, shakily singing a lullaby. As she strokes the child’s hair, the handcuffs press into his head, hurting the places she is soothing.  
  
_ _“Don’t cry, baby, don’t cry,” she whispers, but her tears trickle down her cheeks and onto his skin, and he is shaking with the sobs she is trying to suppress.  
  
_ _He feels an invasive tingling on his skin, and the next moment they’re zapped out of their cells into the throne room of Uther, king of Skylands #5000_ _–_ _#7000. The tingling returns and it pushes the child and his mother on their knees, forcing them to bow before the king and his advisors.  
  
_ _“You are found guilty of the crime of sorcery. The penalty is death by fire,” he says, and then zaps them away.  
  
_ _Panic grips the child and he cries, wanting his mother to make the king see sense. They haven’t done anything wrong! Can’t she tell him? But she can’t, because they’re already in another room.  
  
_ _There’s someone else in the room, someone besides the child and his mother, but he can’t see through the tears welling up in his eyes anew.  
  
_ _A gentle hand wipes them away, and he sniffles. Has kindness finally come? He looks up and sees a man standing before him, smiling down at him with a gentleness the child thought he’d never see again.  
  
_ _“Who are you? What will you do with us?” his mother yells.  
  
_ _The man frowns and says, “I’m Prince Arthur. I’m to carry out your sentence.”  
  
_ _“No, no,” the child begs now. “Please, don’t kill us. P-please, you can save us. I don’t want to die!”  
  
_ _Arthur smiles softly and says, “But don’t you want the other people to live? Your death will help keep them alive. Are you that selfish that you would sacrifice a whole kingdom for you and your mother?”  
  
_ _That silences him, but his mother just screams more. “You bastard! You sick bastard!”  
  
_ _When Arthur looks at the mother, the gentleness disappears and the frown comes back with a vengeance. He grits his teeth and says, “That’s enough!” He grabs her by her arm and pulls her up, dragging her to a deep fire pit in the back of his room.  
  
_ _The child shrieks now, trying to scramble up, but he’s too weak to stand up, let alone run to his mother and save her from this monster. “No, don’t! Don’t! Nooo!”  
  
_ _But Arthur ignores him and, without further ado, throw her into the pit, grabs a lighter, and sets her aflame. She screams and screams and tries to climb out, but it’s too deep.  
  
_ _Her screams and the smell of burning flesh fill the room, but again, Arthur ignores it. He walks back towards the hysterical child now and smiles gently.  
  
_ _“Don’t cry. It’s cold and without the heat I would never survive the winter. Don’t you see? This is a_ good _thing.”  
  
_ With a gasp, Arthur physically pulls himself away from the hallucination, and he tumbles to the floor. He clutches his head, and crawls away from the chair.  
  
“It’s not real, it’s not real,” he says, repeating the same mantra of the last few...days, weeks, months?  
  
But it __is real. Maybe this exact scenario never happened, but everything that mattered in that vision was right.  
  
He has captured sorcerers, knowing full well that they would all get the same death sentence. Perhaps there has never been a body burning in his fire pit—he doesn’t even have a fire pit—but the energy that heats his room is provided by their burning bodies. Humans, the only resource that isn’t scarce lately.  
  
He starts crying then, ugly and loud, scrabbling at his hair and skin. His nails are long and he draws blood, but the pain is deafened by the breaking of his heart. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”  
  
All the while, a small voice in the back of his head says, “Arthur did that. You’re not Arthur. You’re a nobody.”

~~~~o

Day 185, Skyland #7063, Isle of the Blessed

 

Finally, his captors give him a break. There’s no more visions for a while, but the last ones they showed him keep replaying in his head. Over and over and over again. Sorcerers he murdered. _People_. He’s a mass murderer, and he doesn’t even know where to start counting the amount of lives he took, the amount of families he tore apart, the amount of people whose loved ones he took away. He has destroyed so many lives.  
  
He curls into a ball and grips his knees, clutching them to his chest. “What am I supposed to do?”  
  
He feels lost. All those things he did… He was ordered to do them. Were those orders bad? Did he listen to bad people? But they gave him so much, so how could they be bad? How could he even consider that they were bad?  
  
That’s probably why he is here, and they aren’t. He betrayed their trust, doubting their loyalty. But how loyal can they be if they don’t even give him a second chance?  
  
He sobs harder, burrowing his face in his arms.  
  
“What am I supposed to do?”  
  
Everything he has believed for his whole life, has proven to be wrong. He always believed that he was doing the right thing, and now he turns out to be a monster. So how can he know that anything he believes is right anymore?  
  
He has never felt this lost in his life. Or at least, he thinks so. His other life seems so far away, and the memories feel distant.  
  
The room feels like the only house he has ever known. The cold feels like it belongs to him, as if he has never felt warm before, never was meant to feel warm. The loneliness feels like a part of him. Was there ever a time when he was not lonely? Has he ever have people fill the hole in his heart? And if so, where are they now?  
  
A light goes on and suddenly the chair is bathing in warm yellow again, and it seems like the only certainty in his life right now. If everything is proven to be false, if his whole existence is a lie, at least the chair will always be real.  
  
He shuffles closer to the light, and lets it guide him.  
  
 _There’s a man, all alone in an empty room. There’s a darkness inside him seeking to poison everything it touches, but there’s nothing, no one there. Everyone has abandoned the man, fled before he could contaminate them, stain them beyond redemption.  
  
_ __The man cries out, but no one hears him. Or maybe they do and simply don’t care. People pass by his room and don’t even glance at it. Everyone has given up on him. He is doomed.  
  
When he wakes, he isn’t sure if it was a dream or a vision.

~~~~o

Day 206, Skyland #7063, Isle of the Blessed   
  


There’s a man standing in his cell. He is too beautiful to be true, too beautifully real. He is standing where the chair was right before Arthur closed his eyes for the short nap he sometimes manages to doze into.  
  
“Who—?” he starts to ask, but it hurts to speak, his throat unused by now to the movement of his vocal cords. He licks his lips and moves towards the man.  
  
The man doesn’t move, his face doesn’t display any emotions. His eyes merely follow Arthur as he nears.  
  
Arthur reaches him. The man is taller than he, and he tries to stand up straight, but his legs are shaking too hard with the effort and it throws him off balance. He grabs the man’s shoulder to catch him as he almost falls, and then he feels another human being for the first time since… since this became his home.  
  
He instantly moves his hands to the man’s face, needing to feel their skins touch. It’s so wonderful he bursts into tears. The warmth, the softness, the sheer _human_ ness. The man touches his face then, shushing softly as he does so. He drags a hand through Arthur’s hair and rubs his neck a little.  
  
“Hey, you’re okay,” he says, and Arthur’s tears double when he hears the wonderful sound of another person’s voice.  
  
Then, he realizes that this must be one of his captors, and he pulls away, even though the loss of contact physically hurts.  
  
“Who are you?” he tries again, and this time the words at least come out as a whisper.  
  
The man’s eyes flare golden and he conjures a glass of water, handing it to Arthur.  
  
“Here, that should sooth your throat.”  
  
Arthur empties the glass in one go, and repeats his question. He wipes away the tears to look more intimidating.  
  
The man sits down on the floor and crosses his legs. Arthur contemplates staying upright for the sake of intimidation, but he doubts the man feels all that threatened, and Arthur is wavering already. He sits down as well.  
  
“I’m Merlin. I’m a member of SFS, Sorcerers For Salvation.”  
  
“You...you captured me.”  
  
“So I did.I thought you would understand by now. You were a danger to everyone.”  
  
Arthur feels the guilt crushing him, and for a moment he forgets how to breath. He’s been feeling guilty for so long now that he doesn’t remember what it felt like before. He barely remembers _why_ he feels guilty. Lately he has been haunted by visions of an overwhelming loneliness. All the while the guilt was there, telling him that perhaps he deserved to be alone. It’s the one constant in his life, along with the chair. But now the chair has disappeared.  
  
He feels a sudden bout of hope. Maybe, just maybe, his guilt could disappear as well?  
  
Merlin is looking at him with understanding. “You get it now, don’t you? Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
And Arthur is so immensely relieved and, above all, grateful to _have_ someone to talk to, someone who gave him water, who is offering him company now, that he does.  
  
He talks about trying to cope with the constant guilt, the nonstop feeling of plain wrongness inside him, and pours out his emotions. Sometimes he falters, but every time, Merlin is there to reassure him that a full confession will relieve his pain.  
  
Once he falls silent, Merlin starts talking, his voice soothing Arthur’s wounds. He explains the crimes Arthur has committed. That he feels wrong, because he has been wrong all his life, believing sorcerers to be the monsters when in truth, he was the real monster. How catching people and killing them for his own gain has made him feel guilty.  
  
With a calm, healing voice, he explains that salvation is possible. If he helps Merlin, he can repent for all the crimes he committed under Uther’s guidance. He can help overthrow Uther’s reign and let Merlin take his place. Because Merlin is a good person, better than the Old Arthur, and along with SFS, he can save all the people worth saving. He can undo the effects of the Great Industrialisation and start building a better world for everyone, saving them like he saved Arthur. All Arthur would have to do, is choose for good instead of bad, to choose Merlin and SFS instead of Uther.  
  
“I’ll leave you alone for now, so you can think things over. It’s an important decision.”  
  
Arthur’s heart clenches in fear. Merlin can’t leave him! He’s been alone for so long; what if Merlin never comes back?  
  
Merlin must see his terror, and squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll be right outside. When you’ve made your decision, just call for me, and I’ll be here in a second.” With one last parting nod, Merlin is zapped away.  
  
Despite the trust he has in Merlin, he can’t quite convince himself that Merlin will return. Arthur’s breathing speeds up and his lungs ache with the shallow breaths. He shuts his eyes closed and concentrates on taking deep gulps. He needs to think, not hyperventilate. He rubs his arms, feeling bereft of another person’s touch, and tries to comfort himself so he can calm down and _think_.  
  
He focuses on his breathing and his body, where it touches itself and where it’s touching the ground, anchoring him to the here and now. His right hand is holding his left elbow, his left hand is holding his right wrist, his knees are touching each other. His ass is touching the floor, his ankles are touching the floor, the outside of both his feet are touching the floor...  
  
Eventually, his mind clears and he feels ready to face the responsibility of taking the right decision.  
  
He opens his eyes and there is the chair again, standing in the middle of the room and engulfed by the warm yellow light.  
  
Arthur gets up and goes to sit on the chair.  
  
 _Arthur is king. All the Skylands, thousands and thousands of them, fall under his reign. Millions of people look up to him, for he has saved them. There are plants growing in the Royal Gardens, the first sign of nature recovering itself with his help. With Merlin’s help.  
  
_ _Arthur looks at Merlin, standing shoulder-by-shoulder as Merlin feeds his magic into the tiny sapling of an apple tree. The magic is beautiful; it’s everywhere. Now that sorcerers are no longer being prosecuted, a lot of people have come out for their powers. Finally everyone is able to help their loved ones, to help the Earth, to help_ themselves __. All is good.

~~~~o

Day 207, Skyland #7063, Isle of the Blessed

 

“I knew you’d make the right decision,” Merlin says, and his smile is so bright Arthur’s heart flutters in his chest. “There is only one more thing left to do before we can begin setting things right.  
  
“You’re no longer Arthur, the son of a tyrant.” Arthur realises it’s the first time Merlin calls him by his name, and he cringes.  __ You’re not a prince, you’re not a son, you’re not a brother, you’re not a friend, you’re a nobody with no name.  
  
Merlin notices. “You  __ are somebody, just not Arthur. You’re a new, better person, worthy of a new, better name. From now on you shall be called Emrys.”  
  
The burden is finally lifted from his heart. It feels like it can burst out of his chest any moment, it’s beating that hard and fast. He has never felt more alive. He feels rebirthed.  
  
~~~~o

Day 1, Skyland #5000, Capitol Camelot

 

The knights Leon and Elyan find Emrys, handcuffed, but not guarded. He knows the restraints are necessary for his cover, but he didn’t want to risk one of the members of SFS getting hurt. The knights aren’t suspicious of him, either way. They are too thrilled at rescuing him after a whole year went by without any sign.  
  
They feared him dead when no demand for ransom came, so to see him alive, relatively unharmed if one overlooks the malnourishment, is more than enough to get them to lower their guards.  
  
They take him to the palace. Stunned silence, hushed whispers, and elated cheers follow them on their way to the throne room. Emrys is not bothered. He only cares about the faces he recognizes from Merlin’s sessions, where he explained the various plans and people on the inside to carry them out.  
  
Tonight, some of them will open the gates so Merlin and other SFS members can sneak in. Some will help Emrys escape his room and escort them to Uther Pendragon’s chambers. And Emrys, he will kill Uther with his bare hands and personally lead this world into a new age of prosperity.


End file.
